


A Study in Pink

by lindaflower35



Series: Sherlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 09:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindaflower35/pseuds/lindaflower35





	1. Chapter 1

Your morning started as any other morning. It’s been almost 4 years since you moved into Baker Street. You had two jobs: one in a bookstore and the other as a teacher’s assistant which was sort of nostalgic, being an aide in high school. After getting ready and eat breakfast, you head out of your flat and stopped at the stairs. You looked up and thought if you should go up and let Sherlock know you’re heading out, then you decided, why not. And you headed upstairs.

When you entered, you saw him sitting on his black couch, with his phone in his hands.

“Hey Sherlock,” you greeted, and he mumbled a greeting back. “I’m heading out,” you said as you walked to his side, “What are you doing?… Are you interrupting another press conference at Scotland Yard?” you asked as he sent a text that said _  'Wrong!' _

“Yup,” he responded as he send another same text then send another one saying,

_ You know where to find me _

_ SH _

 

“I’m planning to conduct another experiment, would you like to join me?” Sherlock asked you as he stood up and grabbed his coat.

“Um, sorry Sherlock, but I had a job to go to,” you hesitantly declined, making him turn to you.

“The bookstore would kindly give you the day off if you’d asked them,” he replied. Sherlock might be a genius in other things, but not in your work schedule.

“I don’t work at the bookstore today, Sherlock,” You corrected him, “I work at the school today.”

“Teacher’s assistant?” Sherlock questioned. You nodded. “You couldn’t possibly be serious about that.”

“A job is a job, Sherlock; we both have rents to pay,” You commented. You looked at your watch for a time check. As you did, there was a hint of sadness in Sherlock’s eyes. In most of his experiments what people would call inferior or madness, you would jump in and join him without question. That was one of the qualities he liked about you, sheer open mindness. When you took the two jobs, you started spending less and less time with Sherlock. Although he never said it outloud, Sherlock sort of did miss you and it would secretly thrill him if you joined him this time.

“Anyway, I have to go,” you said, looking up from your watch, “See you later, Sherlock.” You gave him a small smile and started leaving.

As a last resort to make you stay-- and a real deduction-- Sherlock suddenly blurted out, “One of the professor’s student fancies you.” Sherlock knew when you knew someone likes you, you were most likely to avoid the place.

His remark made you stop. You turned around with your eyes slightly wide, facing Sherlock, “… Oh… okay,” you spoke awkwardly. Sherlock knew you were uncomfortable, but he didn’t expect your next reaction. You turned back around and went down the stairs on your way to work.

Sherlock stood there after you left, thinking until a thought came to his mind. “I need a new flatmate,” he said  as he left his flat and went to Barts, to conduct his experiment.

 

~ ~ ~

The next day was your day off and you slept till the afternoon. You heard the door knock, then you heard Mrs. Hudson going to the door and faintly heard her greet Sherlock. You went upstairs to the main floor and saw Mrs. Hudson letting Sherlock and another man. He was shorter, had blond hair and walked with a cane.

The man saw you and greeted you, “Oh, hello,” he said surprised.

“Hi,” you replied.

Sherlock went over to you and introduced you, “(Y/N), Dr. John Watson.” You and John shook hands.

“I thought you didn’t have a flatmate,” John softly said to Sherlock.

“Oh, we’re not,” you immediately respond, “we don’t share a rent; we pay separate rents,” you clarify.

“Oh,” John said.

“Yeah... uh, I live in the lower flat, the door that says 221C,” you said with a small smile.

“How about we check the flat, upstairs?” Sherlock suggested.

John agreed and headed upstairs; you joined them. When you entered Sherlock’s flat, the first thing you noticed was the mess and you mentally groaned as John looked around the flat.

“Well, this could be very nice,” John said as he limped his way towards the kitchen, making him grunt, “Very nice indeed.”

“Yes,” Sherlock agreed, “Yes, I think so, my thoughts precisely. So I went straight ahead and moved in.”

“Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out,” John spoke almost exactly the same time Sherlock spoke.

“Oh,” Sherlock replied as he awkwardly started to organized some of his stuff, “So this is all… Well, obviously I can, um, straighten things up a bit.” You went to help him, moving and stacking papers together. He moved a few pieces of paper and stabbed them.

“That’s a skull,” John pointed with his cane.

“Friend of mine,” Sherlock replies, “When I say friend…” he trailed off.

"Metaphorically," you spoke.

“What do you think, then, Dr. Watson?” Mrs. Hudson asked, “There’s another bedroom upstairs, if you’ll be needing two bedrooms,” she said, hinting something.

“Of course we’ll be needing two,” John said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s all sorts round here,” she replied, “Mrs. Turner next door’s got married ones.” You softly chuckled as Mrs. Hudson went to the kitchen. You looked at John, seeing his shocked expression made you chuckle even more.

John sat in the red chair and you sat on the armrest of Sherlock’s chair as Sherlock started up his laptop.

“I looked you up on the internet last night,” John commented.

“Anything interesting?” Sherlock asked as he turned around.

“Found your website. The Science of Deduction,” John answered.

_Oh_ _  that website _ .

“What did you think?” Sherlock asked with a small smile on his face, but John scoffed, making Sherlock drop his smile and furrowed his brows in confusion.

“You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?” John asked skeptically.

“Yes,” answered Sherlock, “and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother’s drinking habits on your mobile phone.”

“How?” John asked, but received no answer in return. Meanwhile you sat there silently, observing the conversation between the two men.

“What about these suicides then, Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson asked as she walk back into the living room, looking at the newspaper in her hands, “I thought that’d be right up your street,” she continued as he looked out the window. Something grabbed his attention. “Three exactly the same.”

You also stood up and looked out the window when you looked at him. Both of you saw a police car pull up at the flat.

“Four,” he simply said, “There’s been a fourth and there’s something different this time.”

“A fourth?” Mrs. Hudson asked worriedly as footsteps could be heard going up the stairs. You turned around when you heard the steps.

“Where?” Sherlock immediately asked as a man barely enters the flat.

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens,”  the man answered. The man had silver short hair. He was Greg Lestrade, a Scotland Yard detective. You have met him a few times before.

“What’s new about this one?” Sherlock asked, “You wouldn’t have come to get me if it wasn’t something different.”

“You know how they never leave notes?” Greg asked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“This one did,” Greg said, “Will you come?”

Sherlock thought for a split second before speaking, “Who’s on forensics?”

“It’s Anderson,” Greg answered. Sherlock looked away in annoyance as you groaned, also in annoyance. You didn’t met Anderson as much as you did with Greg, but one time was enough to know he was the guy you never want to see again.

“Anderson won’t work with me,” Sherlock said.

“Well, he won’t be your assistant.”

“I need an assistant,” Sherlock said, he then looked at you. You felt his gaze on you, but you pretended to be oblivious.

“Will you come?” Greg repeated.

“Not in a police car, I’ll be right behind,” Sherlock said dismissively as he looked away from you.

“Thank you,” he said, then he left. John looked at Greg as he left, in confusion of what happened.

“(Y/N),” Sherlock said while thinking intensively, “Join me this time, won’t you?”

John looked at you, still in confusion.

“Okay,” you answered immediately and confidently.

After a few moments, Sherlock suddenly jumped in excitement and was happy, “Brilliant! Yes! Ah! Four serial suicides and now a note.” You let out a breathy laugh seeing him like this. You could sense him jumping and twirling like a happy little kid. “Oh, it’s Christmas. Mrs. Hudson, we’ll be late. Might need some food,” Sherlock said as he put on his coat with one hand and the other hand, he grabbed you and dragged you along with his movements to the kitchen.

“I’m your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper,” Mrs. Hudson replied.

“Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home,” Sherlock continued as he let you go for a brief moment to fully put on his jacket and his scarf. “Don’t wait up!” he said as he opened the entrance door of the kitchen, grabbed your hand, and dragged you out.

“You’re really leaving John sitting there?” You asked in disbelief as the two of you head for the door.

“No,” Sherlock said as he took your coat from the hanger and handed it to you. You put on your coat, confused of what he was doing but whatever he does has a logic behind it. The two of you stood there for minutes.

“What are we doing?” you asked softly.

“Waiting,” he whispered.

“For what?” you asked again, but Sherlock said nothing.

After a few seconds, Sherlock spoke again, “Let’s go upstairs,” he went back up with you behind him. He stood at the entrance of the door and you next to him, “You’re a doctor,” he said, making John turn around, “In fact, you’re an Army doctor.”

“Yes,” John said as he stood up and cleared his throat.

“Any good?” you shyly asked.

“Very good,” John answered kindly. He stood up straight as he was a soldier again.

“Seen a lot of injuries, then. Violent deaths,” Sherlock said as he walked towards John. While you stayed by the door.

“Well, yes,” John replied.

“Bit of trouble too, I bet?” Sherlock continued as he stood in front of John.

“Of course, yes,” John answered, “Enough for a lifetime, far too much.”

“Want to see some more?” Sherlock asked after a moment.

“Oh, god, yes,” John immediately answered. The three of you went out of the flat and heading for the door. “Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I’ll skip the tea. Off out,” John said to her as she stood next to the stairs.

“The three of you?” She asked.

Sherlock turned around, “Impossible suicides? Four of them?” he said as he walked to her, “There’s no point sitting at home when there’s finally something fun going on!” he finished and gave a kiss on her cheek.

“Look at you, all happy. It’s not decent,” Mrs. Hudson said with a smile.

“Who cares about decent?” Sherlock said as he walked to the door with you and John behind him, “The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

During the taxi ride, there was an awkward silence between the three of you. You saw John glance at Sherlock. You looked at Sherlock and he looked from his phone to you and John.

He took a deep breath before speaking, “Okay, you’ve got questions.”

“Yeah, where are we going?” John asked.

“Crime scene,” You and Sherlock said at the same time.

“Next?” Sherlock asked.

“Who are you, what do you do?” John asked.

“What do you think?” Sherlock said

“I’d say private detective…” John trailed off.

“But?” you asked.

“But the police don’t go to private detectives,” John finished. You shook your head ‘no’ in agreement.

“I’m a consulting detective,” Sherlock answered. You softly smiled as you remembered the first time you met Sherlock Holmes. “Only one in the world, I invented the job,” he continued.

“What does that mean?” John asked

“It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always--” Sherlock started explaining.

“They consult him,” you intervened, cutting off Sherlock, looking at John. Giving him a soft smile. While Sherlock just looked at you annoyed, but amused.

“The police don’t consult amateurs,” John said.

Sherlock looked at him a bit annoyed and you widen your eyes in shock.

_ Oh no. _

“When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said Afghanistan or Iraq,” Sherlock started saying, “You looked surprised.”

“Yes, how did you know?” John asked.

“I didn’t know, I saw,” Sherlock answered, “Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military and your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Barts, so Army doctor, obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp’s really bad when you walk, but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand like you’ve forgotten about it, so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic, wounded in action then. Wounded in action, sun tan… Afghanistan or Iraq,” Sherlock finished.

“You said I had a therapist,” John pointed out.

“You’ve got a psychosomatic limp, of course you’ve got a therapist,” Sherlock said, “Then there’s your brother.”

“Hmm?”

“Your phone. It’s expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player. And you’re looking for a flatshare. You wouldn’t waste money on this. It’s a gift, then. Scratches. Not one, many over time, it’s been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn’t treat his one luxury item like this, so it’s had a previous owner. Next bit’s easy. You know it already,” Sherlock continued his deduction.

“The engraving?” John asked.

“‘Harry Watson’ Clearly a family member who’s given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man’s gadget. Could be a cousin, but you’re a war hero who can’t find a place to live. Unlikely you’ve got an extended family, certainly not one you’re close to. So brother it is. Now, Clara, who’s Clara? Three kisses says it’s a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must have given it to him recently. This model’s only six months old. Marriage in trouble then, six months on he’s just given it away. If she’d left him, he would have kept it. People do. Sentiment. No, he wanted to get rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you. That says he want you to stay in touch. You’re looking for cheap accommodation and you’re not going to your brother for help--” Sherlock deducted before you intervened again.

“That says you’ve got problems with him,” you said, making John’s attention turn from Sherlock to you.

“Yes, like (Y/N) said. Maybe you liked his wife. Maybe you don’t like his drinking,” Sherlock continued.

“How can you possibly know about the drinking?” John asked.

“Shot in the dark. Good one, though,” Sherlock answered, “Power connection, tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man’s phone, never see a drunks’ without them. There you go. See, you were right.”

“I was right? Right about what?” John asked.

“The police don’t consult amateurs,” Sherlock replied.

“That … was amazing,” John complemented.

There was a few seconds of silence before Sherlock spoke again.

“You think so?” he asked

“Of course it was,” John answered, “It was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people normally say,” Sherlock replied.

“What do people normally say?” John asked.

“‘Piss off!’” Sherlock answered.

You, then, suddenly cleared your throat. Making both men’s attention turn to you, “Not me,” you said, making Sherlock correct himself.

“Well, (Y/N) had the opposite reaction,” Sherlock said.

“I actually asked him for more,” you said to John with a chuckle. He smiled back in return.

“What about you?” John asked, turning to you, “Are you … like him?”

You looked at Sherlock, then back at him, “No,” you shook your head, “Not even close. I’m … somewhat normal; I work at a bookstore and as a teacher’s assistant. There’s nothing special about me,” You shrugged.

 

~ ~ ~

The three of you got out of the taxi when you arrived at the crime scene.

“Did I get anything wrong?” Sherlock asked John.

“Harry and me don’t get on, never have,” John answered, “Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they’re getting a divorce, and Harry is a drinker.”

“Spot on, then. I didn’t expect to be right about everything,” Sherlock commented.

“Harry’s short for Harriet,” John said, making you and Sherlock stop walking for a moment.

“Oh, sister,” you said in shock, “… That’s unexpected,” you started walking again.

“Harry’s your sister,” Sherlock said, also in shock.

“Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?” John asked.

“Sister!” Sherlock repeated as he continued to walk.

“No, seriously, what am I doing here?” John repeated.

“I ask myself the same question too when I join Sherlock on some of his cases,” you said to John as the three of you got closer to the crime scene.

“There’s always something,” Sherlock said.

“Hello, freak!” A woman said as she walked towards you. She had brown curly hair, wearing a grey coat and a black skirt.

“I’m here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade,” Sherlock said to her.

“Why?” she asked, clearly annoyed and bitter.

“I was invited,” Sherlock simply said.

“Why?” She asked again, passive aggressively.

“I think he wants me to take a look,” Sherlock replied.

“Well, you know what I think, don’t you?” She shot back.

“Always, Sally,” Sherlock said as he lifted the tape and crossed over. He stood there for a few seconds, “I even know you didn’t make it home last night.”

You and John were about to cross over the tape, but you were both stopped by her.

“I don’t… who’s this?” she asked.

“You know (Y/N), and he’s a colleague of mine, Dr. Watson,” Sherlock said to her, “Dr. Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan,” he introduced John, “Old friend.”

“A colleague?” Sally asked sarcastically, “How do you get a colleague? Did he follow you home?” she asked to John. While you briefly lifted the tape and ducked under it.

“Would it be better if I just waited…” John said, wanting to avoid any conflict.

“No,” Sherlock said as he lifted the tape for John to cross over.

“Come on, Sally, let us through,” you tried to reason with her, “Look, the sooner you let us in, the faster we’ll leave and you won’t have to see our faces again…  _ until the next the next case, _ ” you mumbled the last part.

Sally scoffed and stood there, thinking, while John looked from you to her, “Freak’s here, bringing him in” she said into the walkie talkie, walking away, as John finally crossed over.

As the three of you walked to the entrance, Sherlock looked around on the ground, the surroundings. After he fully turned around, he saw Anderson walking out and heading towards him.

“Ah, Anderson. Here we are again,” Sherlock said to him.

“It’s a crime scene. I don’t want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?” he said firmly.

“Quite clear,” Sherlock replied, “And is you wife away for long?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that,” Anderson said.

“Your deodorant told me that,” Sherlock said quickly.

“My deodorant?” he asked

“It’s for men,” Sherlock simply said.

“Well, of course it’s for men. I’m wearing it,” Anderson said in a obvious tone.

“So’s Sergeant Donovan,” Sherlock shot back.

Anderson turned around to look at her. Both of them had shocked expressions on their faces. You raised your eyebrows in surprise shock, but also trying to hold back a laughter.

“Ooh… I think it just vaporised. May I go in?” Sherlock asked.

Anderson turned back around, facing Sherlock, “Whatever you’re trying to imply…” he started saying, trying to deny it.

“I’m not implying anything,” Sherlock cut him off as he walked past him, “I’m sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees,” he finished, walking past Sally and entering the building with you and John behind him.

“You’ll need to wear one of these,” Sherlock said, whether to you or John or both, as you walk into a room with a few officers and Greg.

“Hi Greg,” you said as you and John stood at the table, taking off your coats.

Greg turned to Sherlock and asked, “Who’s this?” Clearly about John.

“They’re with me,” Sherlock said, not bothering to put a suit on.

“But who is he?” Greg asked again.

“I said they’re with me,” Sherlock repeated and Greg dropped the issue.

“Aren’t you going to put one on?” John asked Sherlock.

Sherlock didn’t respond to John. “So where are we?” he asked Greg as he put on white gloves.

“Upstairs,” Greg said, “I can give you two minutes,” as the four of you started going up the stairs.

“May need longer,” Sherlock replied.

“Her name’s Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards, we’re running then now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her,” Greg said.

 

Once you’ve reached the top floor, you, John and Sherlock saw a body, laying flat on her stomach; both of her arms out and bent; and wearing coat with a bold shade of pink. The four of you looked at the body. You knew Sherlock was already starting to deduce, so you tried to keep your mind quiet and clear.

“Shut up,” Sherlock suddenly said to Greg.

“I didn’t say anything,” Greg spoke back.

“You were thinking. It’s annoying,” Sherlock said. Greg and John looked at each other in confusion, then Greg looked at you and you just shrugged. Sherlock slowly walked closer to the body and you did the same thing, standing next to him. You and Sherlock noticed a scratched writing on the floor, next to the left hand of the body. The writing said  _ Rache _ .

Your mind was trying to figure out what she was writing.  _ Ra- ch- el… Rachel? _

Sherlock kneeled down as you went in front of him and kneeled down too. “So?” Sherlock softly asked you.

You looked up at him, “Um, she was trying to spell ‘Rachel’?” you whispered nervously. Sherlock only responded you with a smile. A small smile appeared on your face, knowing you were right. As Sherlock looked and checked her coat, you moved a bit and noticed she was wearing jewelry. When you looked at her wedding ring, one detail threw you off, it was dirty. As you moved to look again at her other jewelry, you noticed that they were clean and polished.  _ No treats their wedding ring like that… Unhappy marriage? _ You saw Sherlock slide the ring off; the both of you looked at it and noticed that inside of the ring was clean. You were wondering why the wedding ring was dirty on the outside but clean on the inside. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t notice Sherlock’s gaze on you. When you did, Sherlock had a serious expression on his face. You immediately looked down and said, “I’ll stop thinking now.”

A small smirk appeared on Sherlock’s face as he slipped the ring back on.

“Got anything?” Greg asked the two of you as you stood up.

“Not much,” Sherlock said, the smirk grew into a small smile.

“She’s german,” Anderson said leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed, “ _ Rache _ . It’s german for ‘revenge.’ she could be trying to tell us something--” he started explaining. You knew his explanation was totally wrong and, of course, so did Sherlock. Sherlock walked towards him.

“Yes, thank you for your input,” he said as he looked at his phone, searching for something, and shut the door.

“So she’s German?” Greg asked

“Of course she’s not,” Sherlock answered, not looking away from his phone, “She’s from out of town though. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff. So far, so obvious,” Sherlock finished as he put down his phone.

“Sorry, obvious?” John asked

“What about the message though?” Greg asked after John.

“Dr. Watson, what do you think?” Sherlock asked, looking at John, not paying any mind to Greg.

John turned to look at Greg then back at Sherlock, “Of the message?” he asked, unsure.

“Of the body,” Sherlock answered.

"You’re a medical man," you said.

“We have a whole team right outside,” Greg interrupted.

“They won’t work with me,” Sherlock immediately responded.

“I’m breaking every rule letting you in here,” Greg pointed out.

“Yes, because you need me,” Sherlock shot back.

Greg didn’t come up with an answer to that because it was true. “Yes, I do,” he said, resignedly, “God help me.”

“Dr. Watson!” Sherlock said again, grabbing John’s attention again.

“Hmm?” John looked at Greg for a moment for permission.

“Oh, do as he says. Help yourself,” Greg spoke to John. He, then, opened the door and told everyone to stay out for a couple of minutes.

You, John and Sherlock walked to the body and kneeled down. John at the right side of the body; you and Sherlock at the left side.

“Well?” Sherlock asked.

“What am I doing here?” John answered with a question.

“Helping me make a point,” Sherlock whispered.

“I’m supposed to be helping you pay the rent,” John replied.

“Yeah, well, this is more fun,” Sherlock replied back.

“Fun? There’s a woman lying dead.” 

“Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you’d go deeper,” Sherlock said.

John looked at him for a second then at you. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came to your mind. You closed your mouth and gave him a sympathetic smile. Greg came back into the room.

John leaned in to check the woman, then looked at her right hand and leaned back up, “Asphyxiation, probably,” he said as he did, “Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can’t smell any alcohol on her. It could be a seizure. Possibly drugs.”

“You know what it was, you’ve read the papers,” Sherlock said.

“Well, she’s one of the suicides. The fourth?” John asked.

“Sherlock, two minutes, I said, I need anything you got,” Greg insisted.

“Victim is in her late 30s. Professional person, going by the state of her clothes. I’m guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today intending to stay in London one night. It’s obvious from the size of her suitcase,” Sherlock explained as he walked around the room.

“Suitcase?” Greg asked.

“Suitcase, yes,” Sherlock answered, “She’s been married at least 10 years, but not happily. She’s had string of lovers but none of them knew she was married.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, if you’re just making this up--” Greg started to say.

“He’s not,” you cut him off, making everyone’s attention turn to you. You looked at each men who were waiting for your explanation, making you swallow nervously before speaking, “Her wedding ring. At least 10 years old, like Sherlock said,” you moved, with everyone’s gaze following you, and stood over the body, “The rest of her jewellery have been regularly clean and polished, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage there.”

“Yes, the inside is shinier than the outside,” Sherlock continued explaining as he moved next to you, “That means it’s regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It’s not for work, look at her nails. She doesn’t work with her hands so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover, she’d never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple.”

“Brilliant,” John complimented. Sherlock turned to look at him. “Sorry,” John apologized.

“Cardiff?” Greg asked

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Sherlock asked.

“Not obvious to me,” John said.

“Me too,” you agreed with John.

Sherlock looked at each and every one of you, “Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains, it must be so boring,” he said in disbelief. He turned to you, “Mildly boring,” he said. And he continued explaining, “Her coat. It’s slightly damp. She’s been in heavy rain for the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp too. She’s turned it up against the wind. She’s got an umbrella in her left hand pocket but it’s dry and unused.”

“So, strong wind that she couldn’t use her umbrella,” you spoke.

“Yes, we know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight so she must have come a decent distance, but she can’t have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn’t dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff,” Sherlock finished explaining as he took out his phone and showed it to Greg, you then John.

“Fantastic,” John thought out loud in astonishment.

“Do you know you do that out loud?” Sherlock asked John.

“Sorry, I’ll shut up,” John apologized.

“No, it’s… fine,” Sherlock replied.

“Why do you keep saying suitcase?” Greg asked Sherlock.

“Yes, where is it?” Sherlock asked, looking around the room, “She must have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is.”

“She was writing Rachel?” Greg asked as Sherlock turned around.

“No, she was leaving an angry note in German. Of course she was writing Rachel, no other word it can be, even (Y/N) figured it out,” Sherlock responded sarcastically, “Question is, why did she wait until she was dying to write it?”

“How do you know she had a suitcase?” Greg kept asking.

“Back of her right leg. Tiny splash marks on the right heel and calf not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don’t get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious, could only be an overnight bag so we know she was staying one night,” Sherlock explained, “Where is it, what have you done with it?” he asked as he kneeled down next to the woman again..

“There wasn’t a case,” Greg simply said. You, John and Sherlock looked at him.

“Say that again,” Sherlock said.

“What?” you asked the same time.

“There wasn’t a case. There was never any suitcase,” Greg repeated.

Sherlock stood up and walked out of the room, “Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase?” he raised his voice as he went down the stairs, a few steps, “Was there a suitcase in this house?”

Greg walked out of the room with you behind him, “Sherlock, there’s no case!” he shouted back.

“But they take the poison themselves. They chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn’t miss them,” Sherlock said while thinking, then he continued going down the steps.

“Right, yeah, thanks. And?” Greg asked. John, then, stood next to you as the three of you looked at Sherlock descending. You were thinking if there was a suitcase, why wasn’t it in the scene of the crime. Then Sherlock said something that made you think faster.

“It’s murder, all of them. I don’t know how,” he said as he stopped again, “But they’re not suicides. They’re killings, serial killings. We’ve got a serial killer. Love those,” he said in excitement, then, again, he continued down the stairs, “There’s always something to look forward to.”

“Why are you saying that?” Greg asked

“Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it?” Sherlock asked. Then, at that moment, a marvellous idea came to your head. You widen your eyes in realization and without saying a word, you quickly dashed down the stairs after Sherlock.

“Someone else was here, and they took her case,” Sherlock continued, “So the killer must have driven her here. Forgot the case was in the car.”

“She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there,” you heard John say as you continued going down the stairs.

“No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She color-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She’d never have left any hotel with her hair still looking…” Sherlock trailed off.

“Sherlock!” you raised your voice, making everyone’s attention turn to you again. Sherlock could tell you figured something out as you came to his side, “Sherlock, what if the killer has the case,” you said, mildly panting.

Then, huge realization came over Sherlock’s face. His eyebrows were raised, his eyes were widen and his mouth was agape, “Oh…” he softly said, “Oh!” He turned to you, placed both hands on each side of your face and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Sherlock? (Y/N)?” John asked.

“What is it, what?” Greg asked cautiously.

“Serial killer, always hard,” Sherlock said while thinking, “You have to wait for them to make a mistake.”

“We can’t just wait!” Greg raised his voice.

“Oh, we’re done waiting. Look at her, really look!” Sherlock shouted back, “Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff. Find out who Jennifer Wilson’s family and friends were.”

“Find Rachel!” you shouted as you and Sherlock went down the rest of the stairs together and you were already taking off the suit.

“Of course, yeah, but what mistake?” Greg insisted.

The two of you ran back to the stairs and shouted at the same time, “Pink!”

The two of you ran out of the building, passing Sally. You kicked off the suit off and ran along with Sherlock.

“You know where we’re going?” you asked.

“Not yet,” Sherlock replied, “The killer must’ve dropped off the suitcase after they realize they still have it.”

After a while of running, you, then, started thinking of John who you terribly left behind. You started to feel bad. The thought of going back filled your mind as you slowed down your pace until you stopped running and looked behind. Sherlock notice you fell behind, so he stopped too.

“It’s this way. What is it?” Sherlock asked.

You turned around, facing Sherlock, “John. We left him behind,” you said sadly.

Sherlock walked over to you, “(Y/N), you care too much about other people,” he said, trying to convince you.

You thought for a bit before speaking, “You go on, I’ll go catch up with John or head back to the flat.”

Sherlock looked at you annoyed.

“I know you’ll find the suitcase. I’m guessing it’s pink?” you joked.

“Yes, I thought so too,” he replied.

“Go on, I’ll meet you back at Baker Street,” you said. You gave Sherlock a kiss on the cheek and walked away, but after taking a few step, you didn’t know where the main road was. You quickly turned around and called out Sherlock’s name, “You know where the main road is?” you asked, embarrassed.

Sherlock told you where it was and the two of you split ways. Once you did find the main road, you called out for a cab and headed back to Baker Street.


	3. Chapter 3

When you arrived and paid the taxi, you were heading for the door until a black car pulled up. The back door opened and the person who stepped out was John.

“John,” you called out, making him turn around, “hi.”

“Oh (Y/N), you’re alone?” he asked as he walked towards you.

“Yeah, I, uh, left Sherlock and came back here to wait for you,” you answered.

“Wait for me?” he asked as the two of you walked to the door.

“Yeah, I felt bad for leaving you behind,” you replied as you opened the door.

“It’s okay and… thank you,” John said and the two of you entered and headed upstairs.

 

You and John found Sherlock laying down on the couch, holding his left forearm.

“What are you doing?” John asked

“Nicotine patch,” Sherlock simply replied, “Helps me think. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work,” he finished as he kept looking at the ceiling.

“Good news for breathing, Sherlock,” you said as you walked over to the black chair and sat down.

Sherlock groaned, “Breathing! Breathing’s boring.”

John walked over to Sherlock, “Is that three patches?” he asked.

“It a three patch problem,” Sherlock answered.

John looked over to the window then back at Sherlock, “Well?” he asked, but Sherlock didn’t answer him as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, he’s going to his mind palace,” you softly said.

John turned to you then back to Sherlock, “You asked me to come, I’m assuming it’s important,” he said.

Then, Sherlock opened his eyes as if he suddenly woke up, “Oh. Yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?” he asked to John.

“My phone?”

“Don’t wanna use mine. Always a chance that my number will be recognised. It’s on the website,” Sherlock said.

“(y/N)’s got a phone and Mrs. Hudson,” John pointed out.

“Yeah, she’s downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn’t hear,” Sherlock explained, “And I used (Y/N)’s a few times before, so there might be a chance her’s could be recognized too.”

“I was the other side of London,” John said annoyed and pissed off.

“There was no hurry,” Sherlock said calmly.

John sighed and reached into his pocket, “Here,” he said as he handed his phone to Sherlock. “So what’s this about. The case?”

“Her case…” Sherlock repeated as if he was in a trance.

John walked across the room, “Her case?” he asked.

“Her suitcase, yes, obviously,” Sherlock said.

“The murderer took her suitcase, first mistake,” you said to John.

“Okay, he took her case. So?” he asked you and Sherlock

“It’s no use, there’s no other way. We’ll have to risk it,” Sherlock thought out loud.

You and John looked at him confused at what he was saying.

“On my desk there’s a number. I want you to send a text,” Sherlock said as he held out John’s phone to him.

“You’ve brought me here to send a text,” John said in disbelief.

“Text, yes. The number on my desk,” Sherlock repeated.

It was clear that John was annoyed, but he walked over to Sherlock and grabbed his phone. He turned around and looked out the window again.

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked.

“Just met a friend of yours,” John answered, still looking out the window.

“Friend?” you asked.

“An enemy,” John corrected.

“Oh. Which one?” Sherlock asked, not alarmed.

John looked at him before saying, “Well, your arch-enemy, according to him. Do people have arch-enemies?”

“Did he offer you money to spy on me?” Sherlock asked. You already knew it was Mycroft since you saw the black car pull up outside.

John took a moment to answer, “Yes.”

“Did you take it?”

“No,” John answered.

“Pity, we could have split the fee. Think it through next time,” Sherlock replied, “(Y/N) accepted the offer.”

John turned around and looked at you in shock.

You sighed before answering, “I didn’t give an answer. He just gave it to me,” you groaned.

“Because of _dinner_ ,” Sherlock spoke.

“Hey, we agreed not to speak about it,” you grunted.

“What, dinner? Who is he?” John asked.

“The most dangerous man you’ve ever met, and not my problem right now,” Sherlock answered.

“It’s his broth--” you started saying before Sherlock cut you off.

“On my desk, the number!”

John hesitantly walked over to the desk, picked up the slip of paper, “Jennifer Wilson. That was… Hang on. Wasn’t that the dead woman?” John asked

“Yes. That’s not important. Just enter the number,” Sherlock repeated, “Are you doing it?”

“Yes,” John answered as he was entering the number.

“Have you done it?” Sherlock insisted.

“Yeah… Hang on!” John snapped.

“Calm down, Sherlock,” you spoke, “Don’t rush John.”

“These words exactly. ‘What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come,’” Sherlock instructed.

“You blacked out?” John asked as he typed the message.

“What? No… No!” Sherlock said as he got up and stepped over the coffee table, “Type and send it. Quickly.”

Sherlock went to the kitchen, grabbed the pink suitcase and brought it to the living room.  “Have you sent it?” he asked.

“What’s the address?” John asked.

“22 Northumberland Street,” you answered.

“Hurry up!” Sherlock rushed as he took a chair from the desk and placed the suitcase on top of it. He unzipped it and opened it, revealing Jennifer Wilson’s possessions.

John turned to look, but stopped what he was doing when he saw the suitcase, “That’s… That’s the pink lady’s case, that’s Jennifer Wilson’s case,” he said cautiously.

“Yes, obviously,” Sherlock said as you nodded your head. John looked at the case again, hesitant to do anything next. Sherlock sighed in annoyance, “Oh, perhaps I should mention, I didn’t kill her,” he clarified.

“I never said you did,” John replied.

“Why not? Given that text he just had you send and the fact he has her case, it’s a perfectly logical assumption,” you explained.

“Do people usually assume you’re the murderer?” John asked. Sherlock smiled.

“Yeah,” you answered.

“Now and then, yes,” he answered. Sherlock kneeled down as you leaned in closer to the suitcase. While John stood there, dumbfounded.

“Okay…” he said. John walked over to the red chair and sat down, “How did you get this?” he asked.

“By looking,” Sherlock replied.

“Where was it?” you asked.

“The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car,” Sherlock started to explain to you and John.

“No one can go unnoticed with a case like this,” you commented.

“Precisely, particularly a man, which is statistically more likely. So obviously he’d feel compelled to get rid of it. The moment he noticed he still had it, wouldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. After (Y/N) left, I checked every backstreet wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens, and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip,” Sherlock explained.

“Pink. You got all that because you realised the case would be pink?” John asked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you replied.

“Well, it had to be pink, obviously,” Sherlock answered.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” John rhetorically asked.

“Because you’re an idiot,” Sherlock commented. John snapped his head towards him, in offense. “No, no, no, don’t look like that. Practically everyone is,” Sherlock quickly recovered

“Himself included,” you whispered loudly to John. He gave you a soft smile and as did you, in return. While Sherlock looked at you offended but you ignored him.

“Now, look. Do you see what’s missing?” Sherlock asked, going back to the case.

“From the case? How could I?” John asked.

“Her cellphone,” you answered.

“There was no phone on the body, there’s no phone in the case. We know she had one. That’s her number there. You just texted it,” Sherlock elaborated.

“Maybe she left it at home,” John replied.

“She has a string of lovers and she’s careful about it,” Sherlock said.

“She never leaves her phone at home,” you finished.

“Uh…” John said, but then realization came over him, “Why did I just send that text?”

“Well, the question is where is her phone now?”Sherlock asked, avoiding his question.

“She could have lost it,” John replied.

“Maybe… or?” you said nervously.

John thought for a second before speaking again, “The murderer… Both of you think the murderer has the phone?” he asked.

“Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone,” Sherlock answered.

“Sorry. What are we doing? Did I just text a murderer? What good will that do?” John asked. Just as he finished, his phone started ringing. Capturing all three of your attention. You and John looked astonished as he grabbed his phone and looked at who was calling.

“A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her,” Sherlock started saying, “If somebody had just found that phone they’d ignore a text like that, but the murderer… would panic.” Sherlock flipped the cover of the suitcase just as he finished speaking and stood up. He grabbed his suit jacket and put it on as he stood by the door.

“Have you talked to the police?” John asked.

“Four people are dead, there isn’t time to talk to the police,” Sherlock answered.

_You could’ve sent a text._

“So why are you talking to us?” John asked.

“Mrs. Hudson took my skull,” Sherlock replied as he grabbed his coat. You and John looked at the fireplace and, indeed, saw the skull was missing.

“Again,” You said upset in a hush tone. You were also in John’s position a few times in the past, filling in for the skull. “So we’re filling in for your skull… again?” you asked

“Relax, you’re doing fine,” Sherlock replied as he put on his coat. You and John sat there; you looked away.

“Well?” Sherlock questioned, making you turn your head back to him

“Well, what?” John responded.

“Well, you two could just sit there and watch telly,” Sherlock sarcastically suggested.

“Fine,” you immediately responded, making John look at you, as you stood up and walked over to Sherlock. The two of you turned and looked at John.

“What, you want me to come with you?” John asked you two.

“I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud,” Sherlock responded, “The skull just attracts attention, so…”

John chuckled.

“Problem?” Sherlock asked.

“Yeah, Sergeant Donovan,” John replied. You and Sherlock had a mild bitter look on your faces.

“What did she say?” you asked.

“She said… you get off on this. You enjoy it,” John said to Sherlock, “And she warned you too, (Y/N),” he looked at you.

“And I said ‘dangerous,’ and here you both are,” Sherlock said, looking at both of you and left. A smirk appeared on your face when he left. You waited for John as he got up and the three of you left the flat.

“Where are we going?” John asked as you walked outside.

“Northumberland Street is a five minutes walk from here,” you said to him.

“You think he’s stupid enough to go there?”

“No, I think he’s brilliant enough,” Sherlock answered, “I love the brilliant ones. They’re all so desperate to get caught.”

“Why?” John continued questioning.

“Appreciation,” you said.

“Applause!” Sherlock said after you.

“Wanting the spotlight,” you spoke again..

“That’s the frailty of genius, John, it needs an audience,” Sherlock explained to John.

“Yeah,” John mumbled.

“This is his hunting ground. Right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything,” Sherlock started saying as he looked around him.

“Because all of his victims disappeared from busy street, crowded places,” You said after him.

“But nobody saw them go,” Sherlock continued, “Think! Who do we trust, even though we don’t know them? Who goes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?”

“Don’t know. Who?” John asked.

“Haven’t the faintest,” Sherlock replied.

“Predator,” you suddenly said, making the two men look at you in confusion, “Sorry, that was the first thing that came in my mind. I don’t know why,” you apologized.

Sherlock had a faint smile on his face, “Hungry?” he asked as he looked away.

You entered a small restaurant and was showed a table by the window.

“22 Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it,” Sherlock said as the three of you sat down. Sherlock sat on the left, you on the right and John sat in the middle.

“He’s not just going to ring the doorbell. He’d need to be mad,” John spoke.

“He has killed four people,” you said.

“Okay,” John just said as the waiter came by. He greeted Sherlock and said that anything he wanted, and us, was free.

“This man got me off a murder charge,” he said.

“This is Angelo,” Sherlock introduced. That name sounded familiar to you. “Three years ago I proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking,” he explained.

“Oh! That case! I remember that case,” you said in realization as you remembered. John was about to say something to you but was cut off.

“He cleared my name,” Angelo said.

“I cleared it a bit,” Sherlock corrected, “Anything happening opposite?”

“Nothing,” Angelo replied, “But for this man, I’d gone to prison,” he started to brag.

“You did go to prison,” you and Sherlock said at the same time.

“You may as well eat. We might have a long wait,” Sherlock said to you and John. The two of you ordered your food, but you ordered a small meal. Then, Angelo left with your orders.

“(Y/N),” John said, making you turn to him.

“Hmm?” you asked.

“What is… um, what are you doing here?” John asked with difficulty. You knew he wanted to know about you. “What’s your story?” he asked.

“Oh! I graduated from uni four years ago, moved to Baker Street two months after. I'm from (Y/H/T)” you started to tell.

“Family?”

“I have one older sister. Big family from my mom’s side. Don’t know how many from my dad’s… never met them,” you answered.

“Oh,” John said softly.

“Yeah… and that’s it,” you concluded.

After you talked to John, you moved a bit so you could see behind you. And at the same time, your food was given to you and you and John started eating.

After a few moments of silence, John spoke again, to Sherlock, “People don’t have arch-enemies.”

“I’m sorry?” Sherlock asked, looking between him and the window.

“In real life,” John continued, “There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn’t happen.”

“Doesn’t it? Sounds a bit dull,” Sherlock replied, not looking away from the window.

“So who did I meet?” John asked

“What do real people have, then, in their real lives?” Sherlock questioned John.

“Friends? People they know, people they like, people they don’t like,” John started saying, “Girlfriends, boyfriends,” he said under his breath.

“Yes, well, as I was saying… dull,” Sherlock said.

“You don’t have a girlfriend, then?” John asked.

“Girlfriend? No, not really my area,” Sherlock answered.

His answer made John confused, “Wait, so you two aren’t… together?” he asked, pointing at him and you.

“What?” you asked dumbfounded, looking at John.

“You. You and Sherlock, you’re not together?” John asked you.

“No! No, no, we’re not…” you trailed off, “He’s a… um, ‘married to his work’ type of guy,” you explained.

“Oh, right,” John lowly said.

“Yeah, relationships aren’t his thing,” you said to John.

John turned to Sherlock, “You’re unattached. Just like me. Fine,” he cleared his throat, “Good,” and continued eating his food.

Sherlock looked from the window to John for a moment before speaking again. “John, um… I think you should know that, just like (Y/N) said, I consider myself married to my work, and while I’m flattered, I’m really not looking for any…” Sherlock started saying, getting the wrong idea.

John cleared his throat, “No, I’m… not asking. No. I’m just saying, it’s all fine,” John clarified.

“Good,” Sherlock said, “Thank you.” There was a moment of awkward silence before Sherlock noticed something. “Look across the street. Taxi. It’s stopped.” You and John turned to look. “Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out,” Sherlock explained.

“Why a taxi?” you asked.

“Oh, that’s clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?” Sherlock thought out loud.

“That’s him,” John spoke.

“Don’t stare,” Sherlock said

“You’re staring,” you and John said.

“The three of us can’t stare,” Sherlock said, before standing up. He grabbed his coat and left. You just finished eating; you grabbed your coat too and left after Sherlock. John got up after you and did the same thing. The three of you stood outside the restaurant and looked at the taxi. The man inside looked around him before leaving. Sherlock ran after it, but almost got hit by a car in doing so. You and John went around it and catched up. Then, the three of you ran through the backstreets of London, taking the shortcut, after the taxi. The three of you reached a street , just missed the taxi.

“Oh! This way,” Sherlock said as he ran to the right with you behind him. But John accidentally ran the other way. “No, this way!” Sherlock shouted.

“This way, John,” you said the same time.

“Sorry,” he said as he corrected course and catched up with you and continued.

Sherlock made a right turn into another street, almost getting hit by the taxi; making it stop.

“Police! Open her up,” Sherlock said, showing a badge and opened the back door. He looked at the man as you and John stood behind him. “No… Teeth, tan. What, Californian?” Sherlock said. He looked at the man’s luggage, “LA, Santa Monica. Just arrived.”

“How could you possibly know that?” John asked.

“The luggage,” Sherlock replied, “Ah, probably your first trip to London, right?” he asked the man, “Going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you.”

“Sorry, are you guys the police?” the man asked the three of you.

“Yeah,” Sherlock answered, showing the badge, “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” the man answered.

“Welcome to London,” Sherlock lastly said before walking off. Leaving you and John with the man.

“Uh, any problems, just let us know,” John said.

“We’re sorry for the inconvenience,” you spoke after John and closed the door. The two of you walked up to Sherlock.

“Basically just a cab that happened to slow down,” John commented.

“Basically,” Sherlock replied.

“Yeah,” you said after him.

“Not the murderer,” John said.

“Not the murderer, no,” you said.

“Wrong country, good alibi,” John spoke again.

“As they go,” Sherlock replied.

“Hey, where did you get this? John asked as he took the badge from Sherlock hands. “Detective Inspector Lestrade?” he read.

You gave Sherlock _the_ stare.

“Yeah. I pickpocket him when he’s annoying,” he said, “You or (Y/N) can keep that one, I’ve got plenty at the flat.”

John sigh before starting to laugh.

“What?” Sherlock asked

“Nothing, just… ‘welcome to London,’” John replied. The three of you started to laugh. When you saw the man from the taxi talking to a police officer, the three of you knew it was time to go.

“Got your breath back?” Sherlock asked.

“Ready when you are,” John answered.

“Let the running begin,” you replied as the three of you  ran back to Baker Street.


	4. Chapter 4

The three of you were exhausted from the chase you had. John hanged up his coat as he entered the flat while Sherlock hanged his coat on the handle of the stairs and you just threw yours on the floor.

“That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done,” John panted as he and Sherlock leaned against the wall next to the stairs and you sat and leaned back on the stairs.

“And you invaded Afghanistan,” Sherlock countered as the three of you laughed.

“That wasn’t just me. Why aren’t we back at the restaurant?” John asked, out of breath.

“They can keep an eye out,” Sherlock answered.

“It was a long shot anyway,” you said, panting as well.

“So what were we doing there?” John asked.

Sherlock cleared his throat before speaking, “Oh, just passing the time. And proving a point.”

“What point?” you and John asked.

“You,” Sherlock said to John, “Mrs. Hudson! Dr. Watson will take the room upstairs,” he shouted.

“Says who?” John asked

“Says the man at the door,” Sherlock replied as someone knocked on the door. John went to answer it.

You sat up, regaining your breath a bit, “I like him,” you said with a smile, making Sherlock turn to you. “He’s a good man, I can tell,” you said thoughtfully, looking at Sherlock, then the two of you looked at John as he looked back at you, holding his forgotten cane.

As John came back in, Mrs. Hudson quickly walked out, worried, “Sherlock, what have you done?” she asked, making you stand up and you and Sherlock looked at her worryingly.

“Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock asked.

“Upstairs,” she replied. You, Sherlock and John looked at one another before going upstairs.

You found Greg sitting on the black chair with other police officers searching Sherlock’s flat.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked him.

“Well, I knew you’d find the case, I’m not stupid,” Greg responded.

“You can’t just break into my flat,” Sherlock remarked.

“You can’t withhold evidence, and I didn’t break into your flat,” Greg replied.

“Then, what is this?” you asked.

“It’s a drugs bust,” Greg simply said.

“Seriously?” you asked in disbelief.

“This guy, a junkie?” John asked skeptically, “Have you met him?”

“John,” Sherlock warned.

“I’m pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreational,” John argued.

“John, you probably want to shut up now,” Sherlock said to him.

“But come on,” John said, looking at him.

Sherlock looked at the two of you, silently admitting it. You and John looked at him in shock.

“Oh my god,” you softly said.

“No,” John spoke.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“You?” you and John asked the same time.

“Shut up!” Sherlock exclaimed.  “I’m not your sniffer dog,” Sherlock said to Greg, turning to him.

“No, Anderson’s my sniffer dog,” Greg responded, motioning his head towards the kitchen.

You and Sherlock turned towards the kitchen. “What? I…” he started to say when you saw Anderson in the kitchen, waving at you. “Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Oh, I volunteered,” Anderson said evilly.

“They all did. They’re not strictly speaking on the drug squad, but they’re very keen,” Greg explained.

“Are these human eyes?” Sally asked, coming from the kitchen; holding a jar.

“Put those back!” Sherlock exclaimed

“They were in the microwave,” she said.

“It’s an experiment,” you said aggressively. Sally went back to the kitchen and Sherlock looked at you. You just found out after living four years in Baker Street that he was a junkie but, here you were, standing next to him, defending him. You turned to look at him, “What?” you aggressively asked. He just turned away.

“Keep looking, guys,” Greg instructed as he stood up, “Or you could help us properly and I’ll stand them down,” Greg bargained with Sherlock.

“This is childish,” Sherlock said past him, walking back and forth.

“Well, I’m dealing with a child,” Greg said under his breath, “Sherlock, this is our case. I’m letting you in, but you do not go off on your own,” he said.

“What, so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?” Sherlock argued.

“It stops being pretend if they find anything,” Greg lowly said.

“I am clean!” Sherlock raised his voice.

“Is your flat?” Anderson asked, still searching.

“All of it?” Greg asked.

“Don’t even smoke,” Sherlock said, revealing the nicotine patch in his forearm.

“Neither do I,” Greg replied, also revealing a nicotine patch on his forearm, “So let’s work together.” he and Sherlock unrolled their sleeves. “We’ve found Rachel,” Greg said, capturing the attention of you and Sherlock.

“Who is she?” the two of you asked the same time.

“Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter,” Greg answered.

“Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter’s name? Why?” Sherlock asked

“Never mind that, we found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath,” Anderson said.

“I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I am a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research,” Sherlock said to him, passive aggressively.

“He’s not a psychopath, Anderson. He is a high-functioning sociopath,” you said at the same time with Sherlock.

“You need to bring Rachel in, you need to question her. I need to question her,” Sherlock said to Greg, turning to him.

“She’s dead,” Greg responded.

“Excellent. How and when, why?” Sherlock quickly asked.

“Is there a connection?” You asked.

“There has to be,” Sherlock said after you.

“Well, I doubt it, since she’s been dead for 14 years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, 14 years ago,” Greg answered

“No, that’s… That’s not right. How? Why would she did that? Why?” Sherlock thought out loud.

“Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup, sociopath, I’m seeing it now,” Anderson spoke.

“She didn’t think about her daughter,” Sherlock said.

“She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails.She was dying,” you spoke.

“It took effort, it would have hurt,” Sherlock said after you as he walk in another part of the room.

“You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he… I don’t know, talks to them. Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow,” John tried to explain.

“Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?” Sherlock snapped. The whole room fell silent and everyone looked disapprovingly at Sherlock.

“Sherlock,” you whispered.

“Not good?” he asked.

“No,” you replied.

“Bit not good, yeah,” John answered.

“If you were dying… If you’d been murdered in your very last few seconds, what would you say?” Sherlock asked John.

“‘Please, God, let me live,’” John answered.

“Use your imagination!” Sherlock said.

“I don’t have to,” John simply replied.

Sherlock turned away from him and went to you. He stood in front of you without saying a word, knowing you heard everything. You thought really hard.  _ There was no phone found, she scratched her daughter’s name. Uh… phone. Phone, phone, phone. _ For some reason your mind thought of the phone.

“ _ Phone _ ,” you whispered, still deep in thought.

“Keep thinking,” Sherlock whispered. He turned around and continued, “Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers, she was clever. She’s trying to tell us something.” He started walking back and forth.

“Isn’t the doorbell working? Your taxi’s here, Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson spoke as she came upstairs.

“I didn’t order a taxi. Go away,” Sherlock told her.

“Oh, dear. They’re making such a mess. What are they looking for?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

“It’s a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson,” John told her. Your cellphone buzzed in your pocket. You took it out and turned it on, seeing your home number on the screen.  _ Damnit, mom’s gonna have to stop calling at inconvenient times. _ You didn’t accept the call.

“But they’re just for my hip. They’re herbal soothers,” she said.

“Shut up, everybody! Shut up!” Sherlock shouted as he stopped, “Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe. I’m trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You’re putting me off.”

“What? My face is?” Anderson spoke.

“Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back,” Greg instructed.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

“Your back, now, please!” Greg shouted. You unlocked your phone and looked at the apps. Before you could think, you tapped the Extras folder you made up and found the app that gave you an answer. The ‘find your phone’ type of app.

“Come on, think. Quick!” you heard Sherlock said to himself.

“What about your taxi?” Mrs. Hudson asked

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock shouted, making her quickly leave. You walked over to Sherlock as he stood there, also found an answer.

You stood next to him and he looked over to you, “Password,” you simply said, whispering. The two of you smiled.

“She was clever. Clever, yes! She’s cleverer than you lot and she’s dead. Do you see, do you get it?” Sherlock said, turning around to John and Greg, “She didn’t lose her phone, she never lost it.”

“She planted it on him,” you spoke.

“When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer,” Sherlock continued as he walked back and forth,

“But how?” Greg asked.

“What do you mean, how?” Sherlock questioned, “Rachel! …Don’t you see? Rachel!”

“We can trace her phone. She gave us her password, Rachel,” you explain, finally everyone understood.

“John, on the luggage, there’s a label. Email address,” Sherlock said as he went to his computer.

John looked at the label, “Er, jennie.pink@mephone.org.uk,” John read.

“Oh, I’ve been too slow. She didn’t have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone,” Sherlock said as he type the email address on the phone company website.

“Smartphone,” you said as you stood next to him, “almost everyone has a smartphone.”

“So those are website for her account. The username is her e-mail address, and all together now, the password,” Sherlock said.

“Rachel,” Anderson said, “So we can read her e-mails. So what?”

“Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her e-mails,” Sherlock said.

“ It’s a Smartphone, so it has GPS,” you said.

“Which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She’s leading us directly to the man who killed her,” Sherlock said.

“Unless he got rid of it,” Greg commented.

“We know he didn’t,” John said.

“Come on, come on. Quickly!” Sherlock said to the computer.

“Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver…” Mrs. Hudson started saying as she went upstairs.

“Mrs. Hudson, isn’t it time for your evening soother?” Sherlock said annoyingly as he stood up and walked to her, then walked to Greg. “Get vehicles, get a helicopter. We’re gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won’t last forever,” he said.

“We’ll just have a map reference, not a name,” Greg countered. You and John kept looking at the computer screen as it started to reveal the phone’s location.

“It’s a start!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Sherlock?” John spoke.

“Narrows it down from just anyone in London. It’s the first proper lead that we’ve had,” Sherlock continued talking to Greg. You and John noticed something odd about the trace of the phone.

“Sherlock?” you spoke out loud.

Sherlock finally came to you, “Where is it? Quickly, where?” Sherlock quickly asked.

“Here,” you responded slowly.

“It’s in 221 Baker Street,” John said. The three of you were confused.

“How can it be here? How?” Sherlock asked

“Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere,” Greg said.

“What, and I didn’t notice it? Me? I didn’t notice?” Sherlock asked.

“We texted him and he called back,” you said as you turned around.

“Guy, we’re also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim,” Greg instruced. You looked around the flat, but when you looked at Sherlock,you knew he had something on his mind. You saw him receive a text message; you knew something was wrong. John noticed your concerned look at Sherlock.

“Sherlock, you okay?” John asked

“What?” he asked, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he responded dismissively.

“So, how can the phone be here?” John asked.

“Don’t know,” he replied, absentmindedly.

“I’ll try it again,” John said.

“Good idea,” Sherlock said as he left the flat.

“Hey, where are you going?” John asked

“Fresh air, just popping outside for a moment. Won’t be long,” Sherlock replied. You knew that was a lie.

“You sure you’re alright?” you asked.

“I’m fine,” he said as he went down the stairs. You followed him down the stairs. You saw him putting on his coat.

“Sherlock!” you exclaimed as you grabbed his arm, stopping him. He just looked at you blankly and you knew he figured out who was the killer, “Let me come with you,” you said as you were about to get your coat, but Sherlock stopped you.

“No,” he simply said. You slowly approached him and hugged him. He hugged you back.

“Be careful,” you softly said. You, then, sighed, “You’re right, I care too much.”

Sherlock chuckled and so did you. He pulled away and head out the door.

 

“He just got in a cab,” you heard John say as you entered the flat, “It’s Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab.”

“I told you, he does that. He bloody left again,” Sally said to Greg. You were just done with her. “We’re wasting our time!” she shouted as she walked back to the kitchen.

“I’m calling the phone, it’s ringing out,” John said. You just stood there, quiet, observing everyone.

“And if it’s ringing, it’s not here,” Greg responded.

“I’ll try the search again,” John replied as he put down his phone and went to the computer.

“Does it matter? Does any of it? He’s just a lunatic, and he’ll always let you down. And you wasting your time. All our time,” Sally argued. You wanted to punch her in the face. 

Greg thought for a bit before speaking, “Okay, everybody, done here,” he instructed. As everybody started leaving, Greg put on his coat, “Why did he do that? Why did he have leave?” he asked.

“You know him better than I do,” John said.

“I’ve known him for five years, and no, I don’t,” Greg replied.

John looked at you. “I don’t know,” you simply said.

“So why do you put up with him?” John asked Greg.

“Because I’m desperate, that’s why,” he said and he walked to the door. Before Greg left the flat, he turned around, “And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and I think one day, if we’re very, very lucky, he might even be a good one,” he said and with that Greg left, leaving you and John the only ones in the flat.


	5. Chapter 5

John walked around the flat and you sat in the black chair. No words were exchanged between the two of you. You saw him grab his cane and was about to leave until you heard the computer beeping. You and John walked over to the computer and saw the location of the phone and the two of you rushed out of the flat; John taking the computer with him.

The two of you hailed a taxi and got in. John told the diver where to go and you call the police.

“No, Detective Inspector Lestrade, I need to speak to him. It’s important. It’s an emergency!” you said into the phone.

“Er, left here, please. Left here,” John said to the driver.

Once you arrived at the place, there were two identical buildings. You and John looked at each other, “You take left, I’ll take right?” you suggested.

“Right,” he agreed as you split ways.

As you searched the building, your anxiety grew, making you more nervous and desperate to find Sherlock. You shouted his name several times. You went to the second floor and continued searching. Then, all of a sudden you heard a gunshot, “SHERLOCK!!!” you screamed as you ran towards the sound. You ran through some doors and found Sherlock alive and well, but then you saw an elderly man laying on the ground in blood.

“Was I right?” Sherlock asked, holding a pill in his hand, “I was, wasn’t I?” but the man didn’t answer, “Did I get it right?” Sherlock insisted. Again, the man did answer him and Sherlock threw the pill at him.

“Sherlock, what happened?” you asked, but he ignored you.

“Okay. Tell me this. Your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me, my fan. I want a name,” Sherlock said.

“No,” the man said hoarsely.

“You’re dying, but there’s still time to hurt you. Give me a name,” Sherlock repeated. The man shook his head, but Sherlock didn’t give up. He put his foot on the man’s shoulder applying pressure, making the man gasp in pain. “A name! Now. The name!” Sherlock shouted.

“Sherlock, stop!” you shouted at the same time.

“Moriarty!” the man screamed and then passed out. Sherlock took his foot off the man and stood back. He looked at you, then looked away as he mumbled the name.

 

~ ~ ~

After the police came, the three of you were outside. You and Sherlock were sitting at the entrance of an ambulance. Then two people placed a blanket on each of your shoulders. Sherlock kept pushing the blanket off, but the ambulance people keep putting the blanket on him.

“Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me,” Sherlock said as Greg walked towards the two of you.

“Yeah, it’s for shock,” Greg said.

“We’re not in shock,” you said.

“Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs,” Greg replied.

“So, the shooter. No sign?” Sherlock asked

“Cleared off before we got here,” Greg said, but you pretty much knew who it was. “But a guy like that would have enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him, but… We’ve got nothing to go on,” Greg explained.

Sherlock looked at him for a moment, “Oh, I would say that,” he simply said.

“Okay. Give me,” Greg said. Sherlock stood up, ready to tell him his deduction.

“The bullet they just dug out of the wall’s from a handgun. A kill shot over that distance, that kind of a weapon. That’s a crack shot we’re looking for. But not just a marksman, a fighter. His hands couldn’t have shaken at all, so clearly he’s acclimatised to violence. He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You’re looking for a man probably with a history of military service,” Sherlock started explaining as you stood up, “and nerves of steel…” he trailed off as he looked at John. You snickered, making the two men look at you, but quickly covered it by clearing your throat. “Actually, do you know what? Ignore me,” Sherlock said to Greg.

“Sorry?” he asked

“Ignore all of that. It’s just the, er, the shock talking,” Sherlock replied as he and you were about to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Greg asked, making the two of you stop.

“I just need to talk about the rent,” Sherlock quickly dismissed and continued walking.

“I’ve still got questions,” Greg said as he walked with the two of you.

“What now?” Sherlock asked in annoyance as the two men stopped walking again. But you kept on walking to John. “I’m in shock, look, I’ve got a blanket,” you heard him say.

“Sherlock!” Greg exclaimed.

“And, I just caught you a serial killer. More or less,” Sherlock said. As you walked, their voices became more fainter.

You lifted the police tape and ducked over it, with your blanket still on. You stood next to John as you said, “You should’ve told me you brought a gun.”

“Sorry?” John asked, denying it, as Sherlock stood in front of you, throwing off the blanket into the police car. “Erm, Sergeant Donovan has been explaining everything. The two pills. Dreadful business, isn’t it? Dreadful,” he said to Sherlock.

“Good shot,” Sherlock simply responded.

“Yes. Yes, must have been. Through that window,” John said, still denying it.

“Well, you’d know,” you and Sherlock said. John didn’t say anything in return, admitting it in silence.

“Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don’t suppose you’d serve time for this, but let’s avoid the court case,” Sherlock elaborated. John just cleared his throat and you looked down, remembering what happened in the building. “Are you all right?” he asked you two.

You just looked back up and nodded your head.

“Yes, of course I’m all right,” John answered.

“Well, you have just killed a man,” Sherlock said to John.

“Yes,” John finally admitting it. The three of you just looked at each other. “That’s true, isn’t it?” John spoke, “But he wasn’t a very nice man.”

You started laughing softly.

“No. No, he wasn’t, really, was he?” Sherlock said.

“Frankly a bloody awful cabbie,” John said, making you and Sherlock chuckle.

“That’s true, he was a bad cabbie,” Sherlock replied as the three of you started walking away, “You should have seen the route he took us to get here.”

You and John started laughing but quickly stopped.

“Stop it! We can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene. Stop it,” John said.

“Well, you’re the one who shot him,” you spoke.

“Keep your voice down,” John said to you as you walked past Sergeant Donovan. “Sorry, it’s just, erm, nerves, I think,” he said to her.

“Yeah, I have a shock blanket,” you agreed as you wrapped the blanket around you.

“Sorry,” Sherlock apologized.

“You were gonna take the damn pill, weren’t you?” John asked Sherlock.

“Course I wasn’t,” Sherlock answered, “Biding my time. Knew the two of you’d turn up.”

“No, you didn’t,” you spoke.

“That’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it?” John asked, “You risk your life to prove you’re clever.”

“Why would I do that?” Sherlock asked

“Because you’re an idiot,” you and John said at the same time.

Sherlock smiled, “Dinner?” he asked

You groaned upon that word. John gave you a confused look while Sherlock smirked.

“Starving,” John replied as he looked away from you.

“End of Baker Street there’s a good Chinese. Stays open till 2:00. You can tell a good Chinese by the bottom third of the door handle,” Sherlock started saying.

John noticed a man getting out of a car, “Sherlock. That’s him, that’s the man I was talking to you about,” he said as you and Sherlock looked at the same direction.

“I know exactly who that is,” Sherlock said as the three of you walked towards the man.

“So… another case cracked. How very public-spirited. Though that’s never really your motivation, is it?” the man said. You and John said nothing and looked at the two men.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked

“As ever, I’m concerned about you,” the man replied.

“Yes, I’ve been hearing about your ‘concern.’”

“Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?” the man asked.

“Oddly enough, no,” Sherlock simply said.

“We have more in common than you’d like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer. And you know how it always upset Mummy,” the man continued. John had a confused look on his face when the man said ‘mummy’. While you had a amused look on your face.

“I upset her? Me?” Sherlock asked, “It wasn’t me that upset her, Mycroft.” he finally said the man’s name.

“No. No, wait… Mummy? Who’s Mummy?” John asked.

“Their mother,” you spoke.

“This is my brother, Mycroft,” Sherlock introduced, “Putting on weight again?” he asked his brother.

“Losing it, in fact,” Mycroft responded.

“He’s your brother?” John asked Sherlock, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” you answered.

“Of course he’s my brother,” Sherlock responded, not looking away from Mycroft.

“So he’s not…” John trailed off.

“Not what?” you asked as everyone looked at him.

“I don’t know. Criminal mastermind?” John said, making you chuckle.

“Close enough,” Sherlock said.

“For goodness’ sake, I occupy a minor position in the British government,” Mycroft

“He is the British government,” you and Sherlock said at the same time.

“When he’s not too busy being the British secret service or the CIA on a freelance basis. Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does for the traffic,” Sherlock dismissed and walked away.

“So, when you say you’re concerned about him, you actually are concerned?” John asked Mycroft.

“Yes, of course,” Mycroft answered.

“I mean, it actually is a childish feud?” John continued asking.

“Yeah,” you responded, nodding your head.

“He’s always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners,” Mycroft replied.

“Yeah. No… God, no,” John commented.

“I can imagine some scenarios,” you said, “How you’ve been, Mycroft?” you suddenly asked.

“I’m fine,” he said as John talked to Anthea.

“That's... nice” you said, then John called you to leave, “See you around, Mycroft.”

“Good night, (Y/N) and Dr. Watson,” Mycroft said as you catched up with Sherlock.

 

“So, dim sum,” John said.

“Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies,” Sherlock said.

No, you can’t,” you said.

“Almost can,” Sherlock remarked, “Did Mycroft asked you for dinner again?”

“Shut up!” you said

“Dinner? Mycroft asked you for dinner?” John asked you.

“Not important,” you immediately said.

“You did get shot, though,” Sherlock spoke.

“Sorry?” John turned to him.

“In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound,” Sherlock elaborated.

“Oh. Yeah. shoulder,” John answered.

“Shoulder! I thought so,” Sherlock replied.

“No, you didn’t,” John said.

“The left one,” Sherlock said after him.

“Luck guess.”

“I never guess,” Sherlock corrected.

“Yes, you do,” you said.

“What are you so happy about?” John asked, seeing the smile on Sherlock’s face.

“Moriarty,” Sherlock simply answered.

“Who’s Moriarty?” you asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” he replied.

“Are you going to keep that?” John asked you pointing at the blanket, still wrapped around your shoulders.

“Why not? It’s not everyday you get a free blanket,” you replied, then you and John started laughing.

~ ~ ~

“Sir, shall we go?” Anthea asked Mycroft.

“Interesting, that soldier fellow and the young girl. They could be the making of my brother, or make him worse than ever. Either way, we’d better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade three active,” Mycroft instructed.

“Sorry, sir, whose status?” she asked

“Sherlock Holmes, (Y/N) (L/N), and Dr. Watson,” Mycroft said as the three of you kept walking.


End file.
